Lily chewed her lip and thought about their own impending marriage, the fights they’d have, the affairs Liam would probably think about having, especially if his career continued. She thought about the fear Yoko had lived with for years and years. And she remembered herself at the wrap party for Liam’s show, watching from the outside as Liam celebrated his life and his art. She’d known then what she fully knew now. She did not fit into his future. Liam didn’t fit into hers, either.
It was devastating. But maybe it was the kind of thing that happened all the time.
“Liam,” she breathed, reaching for his hands. “You know that I love you, right?” Tears filled her eyes and drifted down her cheeks. “You’re the first man I ever really and truly loved.”
Liam looked at her with bright and earnest eyes.
“But I’ve been thinking about marriage,” Lily said. “I’ve been thinking about your career, and how well you know yourself and what you want, and how little I know myself and what I want. I’ve been thinking about matchmaking and how silly it is, as well, especially when you think about what a ‘soulmate’ even means.”
Liam croaked. “What does it mean?”
“I think it’s just about choosing someone and trying to be as honest and open and accepting as you can,” Lily said. “I don’t know. I don’t know! But I do know that neither of us is being honest about our relationship right now. And that scares me.”
For the next two hours, they hashed it out. They talked about what their relationship had been and what they’d wanted it to be. They talked about their fights, fears, and feelings. They talked about what love felt like right now—“Sort of suffocating,”Liam said with a laugh—and what they hoped love would feel like in the future.
“Like opening a window,” Lily said.
Liam laughed at that. “You’re too much of a poet for me,” he said, wiping tears from his cheeks. “My mom was right. We aren’t compatible.”
Lily raised her hands over her head and cried out to the state-of-the-art kitchen, “We’re not compatible!”
Outside, the wind railed fast and hard against the mansion. The moon poked its head through the swirling clouds. Lily burst into tears of relief and sorrow and burrowed her face in Liam’s chest, and he held her, cuddling her and crying himself. They stayed like that for another half hour before Lily went upstairs, packed her things, and took her car back to her mother’s place. When she walked through the door with her suitcase and red-tinged eyes, Rebecca burst into tears and ran over to her. “I knew it. I knew it. Thank goodness. You’re free.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Yoko arrived in Osaka on the Monday after Thanksgiving. It was a near balmy fifty-eight degrees. She stood outside the airport, her hands loose on the handle of her suitcase, and breathed in the scents of her past, the smells of her childhood. All the way here—riding first class—she’d watched out the window, waiting for her home to come toward her. Now that her boots were on Japanese ground, her heart felt lighter than it had in years. Around her, people spoke only her language.
She’d booked herself a room not far from Nipponbashi Station. The hotel was one of the more expensive in Osaka and far beyond anything her parents could have afforded before Yoko’s fame and money came in. Yoko lay on the mattress, which was far softer than anything an Asian person would have wanted, and wondered if too many of her tastes had changed since she’d left Japan. Maybe, if she really decided to move back to Osaka, she’d have to import a soft mattress. She’d have to find a place with a few American indulgences—for when and if she was in the mood.
When she turned her phone back on, she had several missed calls from both Kendall and her son, Liam. Kendall’s calls sheignored. But she decided to call Liam back. But it was nearly six thirty in the morning on Nantucket, and Liam wasn’t awake yet. Yoko texted him to say she’d arrived safely and went to the bathroom to do her makeup and brush her hair. When she returned to her phone, she had a single, sleepy text from Liam.
LIAM: Lily and I broke up.
Yoko’s heart leaped into her throat. While she was sorry to see the young woman go, she was grateful that Liam and Lily had made the right decision. Yoko had seen it written in Lily’s mother’s eyes, as well. Lily and Liam hadn’t been right for one another. All the wedding plans Lily had made the previous few weeks had felt like a dance she didn’t want to perform.
Yoko wrote back that she was sorry and that she loved Liam very much. She asked if he wanted to come to Osaka this week and offered to get him a hotel room.
But Liam said he was heading back to Los Angeles to tend to professional matters. If Yoko was right about him—and how could she be wrong?—she guessed he was going out there to see a lady. Now that he was free from his engagement, he was ready to be a twentysomething guy again.
Yoko’s old coach had mentioned the tennis charity event on the phone on Thanksgiving Day. It had put a seed in Yoko’s mind that she hadn’t been able to resist. Now, dressed up as the chic “Americanized” woman she’d become, she entered the grand hall filled with tables and spotted her old tennis coach, seated with his wife and children on the opposite end. As Yoko walked toward him, she heard her name whispered through the hall. People were incredulous. What was Yoko doing here? But she managed to make it all the way to her coach’s table before she fell apart. This was the only Japanese family she had left. Her coach stood, his mouth open, and finally managed to say, “I didn’t think you’d come back so soon! I thought it would take years to convince you!”
Yoko bowed to her old coach, blinking furiously to keep from crying. When she emerged from her very low and respectful bow, she found that the entire hall had stood to bow to her. The air echoed with their honor for her. She couldn’t believe it; her old coach hadn’t been lying. Nobody had forgotten her, not in Osaka. Shortly after that, someone pulled up a chair for her to sit with her coach’s family. For hours, they feasted on fish, rice, fermented vegetables, chicken, and noodles. They drank sake and exchanged old stories. Laughter and conversation ricocheted through the hall.
“How long will you stay?” her old coach asked when their bowls and plates were scraped clean. He placed his hands on his stomach and sighed.
“I don’t know,” Yoko said. “My son is living in California, and my husband…” She remembered how Kendall had wanted to stay together. The fact that he could run off to Florida, carve a new life for himself, and come back to Yoko whenever he pleased felt like the biggest insult.
“Husbands are not always kind,” her old coach’s wife said, patting her husband’s hand to let him know she didn’t mean any harm.
“Sometimes husbands shouldn’t be husbands anymore,” Yoko said.
“Only you know what you need to do,” her old coach said.
Yoko smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to give me more direction than that? As my coach, I mean. Tell me how to hit the ball. Tell me how to live my life. Tell me what to do next.”
Her coach laughed. “Your accent,” he said. “It’s so different now.”
Yoko felt her cheeks grow warm.
